Affinity
by Thyme In Her Eyes
Summary: Bram Stoker's Dracula: Alone in England, Mina has met her Prince and learns of haunting memories, terrible darkness and forbidden passion.


Affinity

by Thyme In Her Eyes

_Author's Note, 2008: _I recently found out that this site had seriously messed up my original formatting for this story, so I'm back to correct it. At the same time, I noticed there were a lot of other mistakes in need of tidying-up, so I've tried to do that as much as possible without rewriting the whole thing. All my love and good wishes go out to everyone kind enough to review and/or favourite this story. Thank you, it means a lot to me that you've enjoyed this. But how sad that Vlad/Mina is still such a rare bird around here. Anyway, to all those who _haven't _read this before – this story is based on the movie _Bram Stoker's Dracula_ and is set during the time that the Count and Mina are alone together in England.

**-- AFFINITY --**

They share an affinity.

They share a link, a cord of moonlit whispers and dark memories that chains both their souls together. They are bound by a passion that flares and burns, bound by a love that defies death. A love ever waiting, ever searching, ever needing that link's strength to return after centuries of longing.

It is an affinity of the soul, a connection so beautiful and golden and pure that it can outlast all the ages of man. It gave love to their waking world, and could give it again. And in death, it is a tie strong enough to show them the way, to reveal to them how to fly to each other under heaven's gaze.

It gives them the strength to save one another.

**x-x-x**

She must fly to someone. Her soul belongs with another, for without their love, both are incomplete and alone. Her soul will soar on the wings of belonging towards that which her soul was torn from so long ago. They have always been two halves of the same, and have danced with each other throughout the ages, and to reunite with him is her destiny. To follow the affinity and to be joined together forever is her path.

How will she know when the soul that has an affinity with hers is near her? She will know. The bond, the warm cord that has wrapped itself around her dreams will call to her, and she will hear him. And she will move towards it, towards him, without hope or resistance as love begins to whisper to her once more.

She will know that affinity when she sees him. Does she look for air, before she breathes it? This love will be guided to her; and when it comes, she will recognise it. And she will do anything to keep that love about her. Because to lose it will be like a death to her.

**x-x-x**

For all eternity, he has longed for her.

Once, she was his and his world was full of brightness. But those birds flew from them too soon before their time and he was alone and stranded, knowing of her damnation, of her eternal punishment for her mortal sin. She, who in life committed no sin, was not spared and was shown no mercy.

Without her, all he has known is vengeance, the fiery blaze of rage. He now only knows loss, deceit, malice, sorrow and the howling of such black fury at the world, at all life, and at an uncaring, false God. Now he dwells in shadow, beyond human eyes. He knows bloodlust. He knows how a throat can bloom open in a rich fountain of red. He knows such hunger, such thirst.

But it is not enough to quench his longing for her, an insatiable and tangible need, long beyond death.

**x-x-x**

Always in her heart she has felt the strong tie to another, always in deep dreams she has seen a dark visage speak to her very soul. In the dark labyrinths of her mind, past spiraling turrets of her subconscious, she knows that she is waiting for him. That she longs for a man without a name or a face.

All he possesses is a voice; hushed whispers like smoke clouding in corners of shadow, that sensual music like the smooth sound of clothes gliding down bared skin. Listening, she feels unveiled. His eyes follow, coming to her in dreams, shrouded in secrets, speaking to her without words, without silken whispers. All the passion, joys and agonies the human soul can hold dwell there beneath that visceral surface of deepest blue.

In dreams, she looks deep into them and her soft mouth almost waters, as though with a single reaching touch, she could spill all those emotions out and drink them down in one intoxicating draught.

**x-x-x**

To become a monster was the dread price of his blooded revenge; a revenge too soon enjoyed, its joys too quick in passing. Now his nights are filled with death, darkness and such terrible loneliness. He is a creature that lives beyond the grace of God. He lives in agony and torment. He knows that she would now loathe to look upon him. Would she still love him? Or has he now lost even that, as all things decay and flee from him?

Centuries fill and pass and still, she haunts him. There is no peace. Until he finds her once more in a small photograph.

**x-x-x**

In the night she is alone, haunted by half-remembered dreamscapes and needs. Under the cold chill of the moon and breathing the heady scent of the darkness, all her world begins to pale. There, she is free. There, she is lovely.

But she is never completely alone.

The lasting thread of her affinity, tangled in sleep, as her legs tangle in bedsheets, keeps her safe from such solitude.

**x-x-x**

Once, she saw water. Now when she sleeps, it never leaves her. As she wanders around the surreal terrain of the night, she hears the strange music of foam crashing gently upon distant shores, hears the tide drag and slip away. She wants the dancing starlight, and the energetic wind blowing mist and spray. Tiny beads of icy moisture on her clothes and skin make her feel free for once.

She sees a broad river flanking her form, down far beneath her view. She wonders how old and lost its flow is, how weary it is of its doomed journey under a frigid sky, and an ancient ache chokes her. The sight fills her with sorrow and loss. How lonely its searching must be. How deep, how black, how thick the water seems to her. How soft its surface lies. How chill its midnight depths must be.

**x-x-x**

Then, she sees something sailing across icy seas. A tall-masted ship approaches her, white sails full and proud, moving with inexorable grace, cleaving against tender waters. It slides through a rich myriad of curved waves and silver tracery. It is coming for her.

It heaves into her sight, gliding up towards her. It waits patiently, slurping against waves and creaking against thundering skies, defying the will of tempestuous heavens. It waits for her. It calls out her name. It beckons her. It waits for her to step aboard. It waits to take her away.

He has crossed oceans of time to find her.

**x-x-x**

And she wants to go. And she never wants to return. She wants to fling herself into watery depths, to risk drowning and getting swept away into a dreadful, cold unknown, if only to chance reaching her lost ship.

Seas, blue and cold and darkly deep as his eyes...

**x-x-x**

In the midst of others and their petty, distracted lives and loves, and affinity sings out with gentle longing. It calls out to two souls; one searching ravenously, the other waiting desperately. It calls out in seductive whispers and there is nothing else in the world apart from that sound.

He uses it to call her to him, to draw her eyes towards his. His tortured eyes of blue, heavy with longing for love and redemption meet for one moment with deep dark eyes questing, haunted and restless.

She sees him at last, and an affinity is recognised.

**x-x-x**

Of course, at first she resists.

His eyes are deep and ancient, thick with untold powers and unheard whispers aimed solely at her. His darkness seems to consume her, devouring her like a black maw. His eyes seem to look into the very core of her, to see straight into her soul. She longs to decipher the truths that are written there, yet somehow she understands that she is not yet ready to know them. But with such smooth ease, he steps effortlessly through her own defenses, and the unfamiliar vulnerability alarms her.

He, and all she sees in him, is too terrifying to behold but too fascinating to flee. He frightens her, but he has caught her. For a moment, she believes she recognises his face. Suddenly, she feels lost and confused at this inexplicable, overpowering reaction. His voice is one she has heard before, somewhere. His eyes she has seen before. She knows him.

She wonders what this meeting has set in motion.

**x-x-x**

She is more beautiful than he remembered. She is so different, so fresh and alive, longing for more life. Yet, she is also so devastatingly similar, so much like the woman she once was. He cannot turn his thoughts away from her for even a single moment. She is like a candle in a room otherwise plunged into darkness, her flame naked and gentle.

He wishes for her to look upon him the way she once did. That she could one day look on him with eyes full of warmth, passion and love.

He cannot escape her, cannot escape her maddening gentleness, the beauty and virtue that others are blinded to; the strong and true light that lies hidden in the shadows of others. He longs to hold her once more, to touch her, to make her his. He begins to fail in comprehending an existence without her, now that her own light has dashed against the darkness. His eyes linger on her, drinking in the sight of her, yearning for more, for them to be as they once were. He wants her to walk with him forever.

He loves her still.

**x-x-x**

Inside the cinematograph, the opportunity to claim her comes, but he falters. With laughable ease, he could take her blood and give her his own, making her one of his kind and one with _him_, and none would be any the wiser. None see him, and none would dare stop him.

But he cannot do it. He could so easily make her his own, but he does not. It is not so simple. Seeing her face, pale with fear and languid with longing at his touch; hearing her voice, so searching as she claims with such terrified certainty to know him, he quails. He suddenly feels fear and shame. He cannot harm her. Nor can he allow her to see what he has become for her, not yet. If he takes her into his dark domain of loneliness and secrets, and he _shall_, he vows it will be her choice. He will not use force, he will never hurt her.

Soon, she will want to go.

**x-x-x**

She thinks herself silly for having ever feared him. She begins to realise how he would never hurt her. She sees past the strangeness, the foreignness, and she sees great wisdom, great knowledge. She longs to see the world through his eyes. She longs to learn more about her enigmatic prince, and she feels such need to unravel the truth about him. He becomes a constant in her life, a dark joy.

The rules of society demand that she question how seemly a thing it is to meet with again and again. Especially if it is in secret. Even if all they share is conversation. Again and again, she asks herself why is she visiting him, what he sees in her, and what she finds in him. Again and again, all doubts melt like frail snow on warm skin with the anticipation of knowing they will meet soon. It becomes a sweet torture to her, to beg providence to return common sense to her and then lose all will to ever want it again, all in one moment.

**x-x-x**

His heart burns and twists in ways he thought it impossible to. After so many centuries alone, tormented by memories and loss, his only constants – death and butchery – brutalizing him, he thought that his heart had died, had became a bloodless thing made of ice and iron.

All such coldness has been driven from his blood and mind through their encounters. She slays it in the touch of her hand, with the sound of her voice.

The very sight of her is enough to drive it from him, to exorcise his body of stray shadows. He remembers sorrow. He needs her; he yearns only for her love, knowing she can redeem him. That she can end the suffering of a life spent in solitude without human love. She is his only warmth, his only hope. His only love. Looking upon her innocence, his heart is struck by the sickening depths of realising what creature he is, undeserving of her.

Being without her is now unbearable.

**x-x-x**

She is led in subtle degrees by a silken, invisible hand, to a state of mind where she feels it natural to have her opinion solicited, to be spoken to simply because someone rapturously enjoys her words. To be able to interest someone of such culture, intrigue and ancient knowledge to the extent of being wanted to be seen again and again is a feeling so new and incredible that it causes something deep inside her to hide itself.

For the first time, she feels truly alive. She does not know that she will later look back upon this precious, fleeting time as the happiest she has ever been in her entire life.

**x-x-x**

It is now in watching her flourish and grow into the world, torn between harsh reality and the world that exists in his eyes, the world he has created for her happiness, that he finds fulfillment. He watches her heart blossom for him, watches with equal torment and rapture how her eyes look upon him with warmth, how his longing is mirrored in hers.

He sees her as no others do. He knows her. He knows what she dreams about.

**x-x-x**

In being there for all her moments and feelings that she can show to no-one else, he begins to find his own redemption. If she would only tell him what would make the world paradise for her, he would vow that someday he would find a way to make it real for her.

All he wants in return is for her to need him as he needs her, and to see him as he sees her.

**x-x-x**

Gradually, all her uneasiness dissolves in the wine of discussion and they talk for hours, his words and that unspoken feeling between the words weaving their spell upon her. She feels them begin to move more deeply into each other's confidence. She laughs and smiles with sincerity and suddenly feels the liberation of being able to speak frankly of her thoughts without shame or need of approval. In turn, she listens attentively, his words creating fine images within her mind.

Her feelings, still eternally unfathomable begin to grow, shift and twist, tendril-like, around her heart and mind. They begin to take new form and change. Always, he dwells within her thoughts, moving powerfully through them. Thoughts of him and memories of their meetings warm her.

His voice is quiet and even, yet so intimate that his words seem to be written upon her skin. Her admiration for his vitality, his mind, his mystery and the strange sensation that she already knows him, that he is someone of great importance to her, develops into an excited interest in the whole being.

Her prince.

**x-x-x**

He watches her as they speak, drawn to her every movement, seeing it all through the eyes of an immortal, through eyes more alert and aware than she could ever imagine. She is not diminished under such a gaze; instead her loveliness flourishes in his eyes. It gives him peace for a moment, to be able to drink in her motions and feel close to her. He watches her actions eagerly, even small insignificant gestures. Having been without her for so long, he now relishes every detail of her, burning it into his memory forever. No action is insignificant when performed by her.

In his many years, he has observed that mortals are always at their most unguarded whilst going though such mundane motions. His isolation from humanity has developed a keen taste for this within him, and he likes to watch these people and their unguarded actions with predatory eyes, and observe all they reveal.

He likes watching her especially.

**x-x-x**

Whenever she sees him, she cannot take her eyes off him. To her, he is like a splash of seemingly random colours or shapes concealing an intricate pattern within the chaos. She now longs to see what lies beneath that dark surface, and to know why it calls to her so strongly, what compels her to answer unfailingly. Why she smiles on seeing him.

When she sleeps, she is haunted by dreams of whispers that hold her tight. They are so close now, so strong that each time his cold lips brush her ear, she can feel herself leaning towards the sound, the sensation. She began to realise that the voice that always brought her comfort when she felt alone, the voice from the coloured lands of her dreams, is now frighteningly familiar. It is his, it has always been his. It was always him.

**x-x-x**

At night and in the isolation of dreams, she watches his eyes gaze upon her with devotion, with captivated love and with a terrible but wonderful hunger. She feels her soul wander around in those eyes; eyes that burn and freeze her. Slowly, she reaches for him. She feels that her spirit was once so lost but has now found his in the darkness and together, drawn by an affinity, they can finally reach the light.

Now, whenever she dreams of eyes and seductive whispers, she yearns for the freedom and courage that might allow her to reach out to that incomplete body, lost in shadows, and touch.

**x-x-x**

He whispers her name, keeping it raw on his lips, as though in doing so he can posses both it and her. There are a thousand other things he longs to whisper to her, and one day he will speak each one to her.

He will tell her how he has loved her since placing his eyes upon her, how he always knew destiny had brought them together. He will confess how his body burns for hers. He will promise to teach her all there is to know of the night. He will beg for her forgiveness. He will cry to her that he shall not let them be parted again, that he will protect her from all their enemies and right all the wrongs he has caused. He will vow to defy the very heavens to be with her. He will swear over and over that he will do all it takes to please her and keep her safe.

**x-x-x**

The night inspires silken fear within her, clutching at her breath and cleaving desperately to her petite form. These are lonely moments. She has never been discovered and now, she begins to feel the need for a taste of sweet fruit, and to be sampled herself in turn. She feels a burning shame at such desires and pushes them down, flinging them away to a secret part of her mind where all forbidden thoughts are locked away, never to be revealed or explored. Still, the scent of the night beckons to her.

What frightens her more than any desire is the possibility that one night, in her slumber, a figure may appear in such dreams to fulfill the part of a phantom lover.

And that he will not be Jonathan.

**x-x-x**

They dance in a small chamber, surrounded by a hundred candles. He takes her small, tender hand in his own and moves as one with her, as graceful as a leaf twisting on the air before that final fall. They waltz and their movements wrap them together, their eyes locked together, roaming inside each other despite the distance between their bodies. They seem to float, just as the flame dances and teases on the wick of each candle.

They seem to be flying, holding onto each other as they glide, catching the other as they fall, ready to be their partner's saviour. They feel a memory of what they had, and of all they lost. They feel the whispering air as they spin with careful grace in each other's arms, never wanting to leave that embrace. They want to wrap around the thoughts of each other. Their spirits had for so long drifted alone in crushing, hollow dark, but now the light shines.

The bond of that strengthening affinity sends a warm quickening through their souls. They are happy. They have found one another.

**x-x-x**

Soon, her senses are flooded with memories and feelings that cannot possibly belong to her. Dead words, ancient sorrows and a long-forgotten language unfold from her lips. She feels possessed by a feeling stronger than all holiness and divine power, and she begins to want to remain that way forever. There is great bewilderment, but any fear or apprehension is fading fast. It is almost like a waking dream to her, one she cannot bear to stir from, and it has defeated all her logic and vigilant intelligence. All the shame and confusion begins to age and dim next to the radiant reality of his presence.

She wants to dance with him in that green, dark-forested land of her dreams forever. He has taken her to places of magic, life and memories, and she does not want to lose that feeling, cannot bear thinking of being parted from it and the completion she feels with him. It haunts her as he does, and drowns her though she cannot understand it.

The moment the rolling dawn claims her mind, that pure vision, once so clear and precise as diamond, shatters and fades away.

**x-x-x**

He knows she is sleeping. In his mind, he watches over her, lets his dark presence touch her. He has watched her from the beginning. Through lonely nights, he keeps vigil over her, as though to protect her from the evil that the night is laden with since he entered her life. He feels the power of his spirit stretch out towards her, reaching out for her, wanting a single glimpse. He gazes upon her as she slumbers, as she swims in the murky depths of her dreams, her body puddled in soft sheets, her face lost and languid.

Their connection draws him to her in sleep, just as she is drawn to him whilst she roams awake. The affinity comes creeping, and he lets it creep all through him. He inhales a rich memory of her sweet face, feels their bond call him to her.

He answers faithfully, and comes to her.

**x-x-x**

Her guard has long fallen, revealing her true soul. Her soul wants to be left breathless.

She cannot lie about the song the memories sway her with any easier than she can escape from them; she knows there is no hiding. Her need to fight it dies a little more each day. Her heart becomes wracked by deep guilt and split desires, by something she cannot honour or deny. She knows she must leave, that she must fight whatever she feels, but she has long lost the will to do so. She begins to long for touches of silver and kisses that can possess her entirely.

**x-x-x**

This is the time that she thinks of her fiancé. She hardens her resolve and determines that it is him she thinks of in her deepest heart. Her strange and wonderful prince, who has showed her so much of this world is a companion alone, she tells herself. But still, she feels herself waiting.

She tries to shut her eyes to the shadows, defying their penetrating stare, afraid that they might steal her soul and fly away with it.

**x-x-x**

He sees that she always sleeps fitfully, lost in some great peace and warmth behind her eyes. He longs to be there as much as he longs to reach out and touch her pale, moon-painted face and to run a stray hand through the raven depths of her hair, to feel it curl and tangle like silk threads around his fingers, to be able to breathe deeply of its scent. He wants to whisper soothing words to her, to comfort her and himself.

More than anything, more than any longings for whispers or touches, he wants to hold her; to feel her warm in his arms and to never let go.

In her sleep, she whimpers softly beneath the shroud of his presence.

**x-x-x**

Tonight, she sleeps. Their affinity guides him to her mind. He lets himself settle over her like a fog, feels her become unconsciously aware of him. She senses him and does not seek to shut him out. His projected essence will cleave to her dreamscape, but she will be the one to determine the form it takes there and it will be only for her to know.

In dreams, she sighs with love, welcoming him.

**x-x-x**

As she sleeps, she drifts on warm wings from memories of icy water and hot blood into the black heart of a raging storm. She is locked in a passionate embrace with the figure that always lived in her dreams, the man with the haunting eyes and earthy whispers. Their limbs are bare and tangled, possessing fully, pale flesh pressing against flesh paler still, his lips drawing masterfully on her skin as he kisses her deeply, their bodies entwining.

Surrounding them, nothing exists except for furious wind and forked lightning. Not a fibre of the air is at peace. The wind holds them almost as fiercely as they hold one another, suspending them, their bodies neither flying nor floating. They kiss desperately, feverishly; the harsh wind whipping and jetting around them, lashing like a tidal wave, their flesh only shielded by their companion's body. He kisses her as he wraps his arms tightly around her, holding her close, protecting her from the harshest lashings of the winds ripping at them.

The wind rages and roars so powerfully that she is almost sent off flying into an oblivion of black, howling sky. She is saved only by holding onto him tightly, hooking her slim arms around him, hands gripping at his shoulders. He is the only meaning she can fathom in this void. She knows that she cannot – that she must not! – lose hold of him, else she will be swallowed by the despairing, keening blackness and chaos. The only safety lies in submerging herself in the warmth he offers.

Outside her impassioned mind, the night drifts on.

**x-x-x**

The twisting of their affinity is done – each has the very last thread of the other. They will be in sunlight soon, after moments are given, then gone. Love has been guided to them. An affinity is known, but not yet understood. The link is forged and soon, they will fly to one another, and know eternal reunion. It whispers their names with heat, calling them, as they call to each other. They feel the tug of the thread, and hearts open and cry out.

_Vlad..._

_Mina..._

**-- FIN --**


End file.
